


you will always be my favourite form of loving

by delta_trevino



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU - Quarantine, Alternate Universe - College/University, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Haircuts, Insecurity, IwaOi Week, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, people wear your masks, wait that's real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27829864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_trevino/pseuds/delta_trevino
Summary: Iwaoi week 2020. Celebrating their dynamic, stupidness, and relationship.1. mutual pining2. confessions3. established relationship4. flowers <35. fluff (haircuts!)7. best friends to lovers8. hurt/comfort(okay okay i'm late and out of order but i love them so i'm going to do it)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Matsukawa Issei/Hanamaki Takahiro (minor)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60
Collections: IwaOi Week 2020





	1. "i'm looking for affection in all the wrong places" - between friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa and Iwaizumi share earbuds because it's too hard to share feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scales of intensity:
> 
> fluff: 7/10  
> angst: 1/10  
> lemon: 0/10
> 
> prompt (day 1): mutual pining

The bus lurches again, Oikawa bumping into Iwaizumi. Seijoh is on their way to a practice match against Date Tech even though it’s the first snow of the season. The windows are fogged up, save for Oikawa’s drawing of a peace sign and Iwaizumi’s hands when he fought Oikawa to wipe it off. 

Iwaizumi says something he can’t hear amid Kindaichi bothering Kunimi and Mattsun and Makki debating the technicalities of a homemade ice rink in the local park. 

“What?” Oikawa takes out his left earbud. 

“Those are mine.” Iwaizumi eyes the blue earbuds. Oikawa snatches them up and shoves them behind his back along with his phone. 

“Iwa-chan! I would never steal from you,” he insists with a charming grin, Iwaizumi already rolling his eyes. 

They are Iwaizumi’s. He wears them all the time; it’s a miracle they haven’t broke. They’ve gone through the wash twice and have been attached to his phone or his backpack since first-year. 

Iwaizumi holds out his hand for them back. Oikawa sticks out his tongue. 

“You’re not using them though,” he protests.

“I’m going too.” 

“Not anymore,” Oikawa decides, putting the earbuds back in. He presses play, leaning on the cold window to avoid looking at Iwaizumi. The snow is the pretty type, ontop branches of trees and floating down from the sky in spirals, making the neighbourhood look like one of those festive calendars.

“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi hisses, and then Oikawa’s song has stopped, and there’s the tell-tale sign it’s being skipped quicker than he can react. Another. Another.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa protests, slapping the ace’s hand away. Neither of them are rich, and only have six skips on Spotify per hour. 

“Get your own pair. Ask for them for Christmas or something.” Iwaizumi’s hand is still out, waiting for Oikawa to concede. 

“Can I have these for Christmas?” Oikawa grins. 

Christmas is a day for lovers, and New Years’ is a big celebration for family. It’s rare for friends to exchange gifts, although Iwaizumi and Oikawa have spent it together since their families tend to cook and meet up. Days and gifts tend to blur. 

“No.” Iwaizumi reaches out to grab them. Oikawa shrinks back, swatting his hand away. “Those are mine.” He’s exasperated. 

“I’ll get you another pair,” Oikawa says in a last-ditch effort, because suddenly he desperately wants these. He really wants these.

He wants a present from Iwaizumi for Christmas, the day for lovers and he wants these earbuds. The ones Iwaizumi always has, the ones Iwaizumi treasures in the way he won’t treasure Oikawa. 

Oikawa wants something of Iwaizumi’s. It’s a measly pair of earbuds but he can’t hold his hand or kiss him, so Oikawa wants these. 

It’s not his fault. He’s been fucked since the first time his chest constricted at Iwaizumi’s laugh in second-year, when flirting with girls that had once been so entertaining, seemed meaningless. Fucked since Mattsun and Makki sighed at him, guessing when he'd break and spill, or cry. He hadn’t broken the lie of omission he’d kept from Iwaizumi, but he’d lost track of how many times he’d cried since then.

“Huh?” 

Oikawa doesn’t know how to justify it. 

“I want this pair,” he says instead primly. Maybe he can pass this off as being petty.

“You’re being stupid.” Iwaizumi shoves his shoulder. Oikawa bumps into the frosted window, throwing Iwaizumi a wounded look. “This is like the cinnamon hot chocolate. You always want the most annoying things.”

Oikawa had dragged Iwaizumi around town until he found this local shop that had cinnamon hot chocolate he’d remembered randomly in the middle of class. It had taken them three hours to find, under the spitting rain and glaring clouds. 

Oikawa shrugs. 

He wishes he knew why everything he wants is so hard to obtain. Learning to bake meringues, memorizing all of Hamilton, going to Nationals, kissing his best friend. On and on and on. 

Iwaizumi shrugs in a mocking manner. 

The bus turns right, nudging Oikawa towards Iwaizumi. Their legs press into each other, shoulders bumping and Iwaizumi’s hands fly out to push Oikawa back to his side. 

“We can share,” Oikawa offers generously. He takes the left earbud out and holds it out to Iwaizumi.

“They’re literally mine,” Iwaizumi replies somewhat incredulously, but he takes the earbuds and sticks it in his ear. Oikawa shuffles a handful of his playlists that are full of his flavour-of-the-month songs and classics until he settles on an acceptable one. 

It’s a chill song with a strong melody, basic chords and lyrics he got a day after hearing the song.

After his choice ends, Iwaizumi nudges the phone out of his hand to pick one. Oikawa leans back, watching Iwaizumi enter his passcode (Oikawa knows his too) and squints at three incoming notifications. He shoots Oikawa an annoyed look before scrolling dutifully through Oikawa’s library. 

Four songs start and get cut off as Iwaizumi shuffles other playlists. 

“Here.” He drops Oikawa’s phone back in his lap. His head tilts back against the grey bus seat, eyes closing. 

The tune picks up before Oikawa recognizes it. His eyes flint to Iwaizumi. It’s a love song. A somewhat acoustic cover of a generic and catchy one, granted, which makes it even weirder. 

The singer’s voice is calming, blending with guitar chords and blocking out the rest of the bus. To be fair, Oikawa doesn’t nearly know enough about Iwaizumi’s music taste because his own is the one thing he’s confident in, but love songs are unexpected. Of course, there are millions of songs about love but this one is romantic. Romantic. 

“What,” Iwaizumi calls him out, an eye cracked open. Oikawa realizes he’s been staring still.

“I didn’t know you were romantic, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teases. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Iwaizumi says over the last bars of the song. “It’s calming so I listen to stuff like this before games.” 

Oikawa laughs once. 

Iwaizumi scowls. 

“Alright, I’ll pick a calming one.” Oikawa scoops up his phone to shuffle his love song playlist. It’s great for when he’s coming down from a high because Iwaizumi laughed to tears at one of his jokes, or when Iwaizumi tolerates cuddling, which happens when Oikawa’s knee hurts or he’s crying. It’s ironic, Iwaizumi tends to show him more affection when he’s sad, when he’s sad because he likes Iwaizumi in the way he shouldn’t.

“Shittykawa-” Iwaizumi tries to hit the skip button. Still Into You by Paramore. 

Oikawa laughs again, slouching. “No Iwa-chan, that one’s amazing.” 

“It’s the least calming and most annoying song ever,” Iwaizumi groans. Oikawa plays it on repeat when he’s studying so that it’s become white noise to him and Iwaizumi’s tired of it. 

“Uncultured grump,” Oikawa huffs before reluctantly shuffling the artist of the song Iwaizumi chose previously and Iwaizumi leans against the seat of the bus again.

They’re close to Date Tech’s school, if Oikawa remembers correctly. When the bus turns again, snowflakes flying by, Oikawa lets his head fall on Iwaizumi’s shoulder as lackadaisically as he can. Iwaizumi tenses, and then relaxes right after. He’s kind, indulging Oikawa’s tactile wants. Or cruel, depending on how you look at it. 

Oikawa drifts from the lull of the bus and the calming music, eyes closed. He’s not as keyed up as he usually is before games, even though this is just a practice game. He understands why Iwaizumi likes these acoustic covers. 

Perhaps one or ten minutes have passed before a call of “Hey! Lovebirds!” makes him jolt. Groggily, Oikawa blinks and turns to Iwaizumi, retracting slightly. 

Iwaizumi’s already looking at him, something Oikawa can’t place in his face. Oikawa wonders if he can pass off his blush as being cold. His mind is still foggy but he likes this, close to Iwaizumi and sharing music. It’s one of the many places he feels like he’s at home, although, granted, most of the places he feels at home are with Iwaizumi. The court, and his arms. Their route walking to Seijoh, and the ramen shop the third years frequent after practice matches. 

“We’re here,” Iwaizumi says, eyes darting forwards like he’s been caught red-handed. 

“Mhmm.” Oikawa stretches his back, yawning with his mouth covered by his hand. 

The music has drifted to something by BORNS if Oikawa’s not mistaken. He presses pause, surprised when Iwaizumi drops the other earbud in his hand. 

“What?” He slurs, still tired. He needs to snap out of it. They’re about to kick ass here and take down Date Tech.

“Keep them,” Iwaizumi says simply, before standing up to exit the bus. Oikawa’s fingers curl around the earbuds, blue and signaturely Iwaizumi’s. 

It’s moments like these Oikawa had breathing problems. Iwaizumi’s too kind. Or cruel, and all it does is remind Oikawa how in love he is with his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay ik hamilton didn't come out by then but i love the idea of Oikawa singing it so here you all go


	2. "you don't have to say i love you, to say i love you." - troye sivan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything Oikawa and Iwaizumi do screams i love you except for the fact they haven't said it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scales of intensity: 
> 
> fluff: 8/10  
> angst: 0/10  
> lemon: 3/10 (mentioned, please be warned!)
> 
> okay okay okay i know i'm late but i love them too much not to do the prompts.
> 
> prompt for today: confessions

He can do it. He can do it. 

Oikawa Tooru’s draped over Iwaizumi Hajime, a leg slung over his lap as their watching some crime documentary. It feels late today, from the hours of practice and waking up early to do school work. Biology is tough. 

The clock reads only 9:21, but Oikawa yawns, his hand coming up to cover his mouth although he’s not tired. He can do it. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, looking up at him. His boyfriend’s gaze flickers down, wondering and wary. Understandable, since the last time Oikawa interrupted the show, it had been to ask for a sweater. Specifically the one Iwaizumi had been wearing. Oikawa fiddles with the sleeves of the black pullover that he got with lots of grumbling. It’s worn in and feels like a hug clothesified. 

“Yeah?” 

He can do it. 

They’ve been dating for three months now, three thrilling and paranormal months of time where Oikawa‘s allowed to hold his hand, to cling a little longer, smile just because he’s there, flirt because he can. And then there’s the kissing. 

The kissing is hell, every second they aren’t kissing Oikawa wants to. Iwaizumi’s a good kisser, he kisses like he is, all steady hands and really real lips, a gentleness even when Oikawa’s being greedy that makes him want to cry. Sweet, close mouthed kisses in the morning when Oikawa’s grumpy and sporting bed-head, languid ones during boring movie scenes, filthy kisses when they’re both barely holding on and it’s all tongue and teeth and wanting more. 

Iwaizumi’s always been a top-tier partner but now that they’re dating, he’s more fluent. He’ll bring Oikawa milk bread wordlessly, massage his knee without nagging, acts of kindness that Oikawa knows why Iwaizumi would never act upon before they were dating. If he had, Oikawa would’ve known instantly something was up. 

It’s like Oikawa gave him permission to love him, and now Iwaizumi’s indulging. 

It goes both ways, for sure.

Now Oikawa brings extra food for Iwaizumi after practice, and sends him study notes instantly, mixes their hoodies until even Mattsun and Makki don’t know who’s wearing whose. He reminds Iwaizumi to close his windows before he goes to bed, to say happy birthday to the first-years he’s tutoring, small things you remember to do when you’re in love with someone. 

Of course, they fight still, they argue, they bicker and banter is everywhere in their daily conversations. 

They clash over Oikawa’s lofty attitude towards everything, and his habit of lashing out. Of how Iwaizumi’s so dense and it’s hard for Oikawa to spell out every little thing. The most trivial things too, like if the story of Snow White is ethical, and politics, and whether or not stealing from big corporations is bad.

But everything they do spits the words, “I’m in love with you.” 

The dancing when it’s too early in the morning, or too late at night, when they bake and Iwaizumi insists Oikawa move away because he’s awful with the oven, when Oikawa lunges onto him after they’re both done schoolwork and kisses him just because he can. 

It screams, “I love you.” 

Laughing so hard they can’t breathe? _I love you._

Switching uniforms in between classes so they can both say they have blazers? _I love you._

Making two cups of coffee instead of one because it just feels natural? _I love you._

Kissing, or holding hands, or just running hands over each other’s shoulders or through their hair or just flicking foreheads? The little sparks that haven’t lost their electricity at contact? _I love you._

They don’t have to say it to mean it. But Oikawa wants to. 

So he does. 

“Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks. Oikawa’s first name on Iwaizumi’s lips is music. 

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa confesses,” I love you.” There’s a curl in the bottom of his stomach at the thrilling words, the way Iwaizumi’s eyes widen and his jaw goes slack, his arm pulling Oikawa closer to him. 

Iwaizumi’s lips are rougher than his, a little chapped, but kind. 

This too. This screams, “I love you.” 

There are hands in Oikawa’s hair, holding him and Iwaizumi’s thumbing over his cheekbone. It’s such a tender gesture that Oikawa’s stomach swoops and he kisses Iwaizumi more, laughing when their teeth clack once. 

“Kiss me properly,” Iwaizumi huffs, leaning back down. Oikawa wraps his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck like ivy as they kiss, and time has stopped, if he looked over at the clock he knows the arms would be frozen. 

Iwaizumi licks into Oikawa’s mouth, drawing out a high pitched sound. Oikawa’s fingers tighten in Iwaizumi’s hair behind his neck, and he shifts more towards Iwaizumi’s lap. French kissing really is something else. 

Oikawa’s needy, so of course he lets Iwaizumi bite his lips and lick over them, and it’s sensual, he knows it’s sensual and spitty and might be considered lewd, but it’s with Iwaizumi, so he’s okay with that. 

Iwaizumi’s fingers dig into the base of his neck and he knows Iwaizumi’s just as eager as he is. Oikawa’s giddy, and he can’t help it with Iwaizumi right there, kissing him like this, he laughs. 

Laughing while they kiss is one of the best things about dating his best friend. 

He laughs, and Iwaizumi pulls back to smile. 

“Damnit, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi flicks his forehead. “That wasn’t properly.” 

“Sorry,” he says, even though he’s not sorry. 

“You’re not sorry.” 

“Mhm.” Oikawa flops back into Iwaizumi’s chest, tucking his feet closed to him. “You’re right.” 

Iwaizumi sighs, deep and low, before kissing the top of his head. 

“I love you too.” 

Oikawa wonders if it’s medically unhealthy that his heart beats like this at four simple words. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, dumbass.” Oikawa looks up at Iwaizumi, who’s flushed on his neck and has flitty eyes although his hands are anchoring them together. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Oikawa thinks of all their memories and everything that they do together, of their kisses and the “us” of this world. 

It is obvious. 

“Yeah,” Oikawa admits. “It is.” 

Iwaizumi nods, satisfied. 

“It’s nice to hear it, though,” he also admits. 

Iwaizumi flicks his forehead. 

“Whattt,” Oikawa complains. “It is nice.” 

“Unlike you.” 

“Iwa-chan, mean.” His voice holds no malice. 

“You like it.” 

“Oh.” Oikawa grins. “I do like _that_.” 

Iwaizumi swats him. “Dirty minded dumbass.”

“You like it,” Oikawa teases back. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. 

Oikawa knows sometimes Iwaizumi does, especially when Oikawa sinks to his knees and uses all the dirty, dirty weapons in his arsenal, and sometimes he doesn’t, when they’re at family dinners and Oikawa’s hand keep brushing higher and higher up his thigh. 

They haven’t gone all the way, but they are eager and hormonal teenagers with the object of their affections right in front of them. There are certainly moments when they need to remember to slow down, to talk about everything and breathe, not dive in headfirst and end up crashing. 

Not that Oikawa’s opposed to the idea of crashing with Iwaizumi. But still. 

“Say it again,” Oikawa requests selfishly. 

“Oikawa Tooru,” Iwaizumi starts and Oikawa waits, expectant. “You are singlehandedly the most annoying and awful person in this world.” 

“But not the universe.” 

“Yeah. You’re the most annoying in the world, but not as annoying as the aliens so you can’t even be number one at it.” 

Oikawa sticks out his tongue. 

“But I love you.”

“Sap.” 

“Fuck off.” 

Oikawa tilts his head and smiles involuntarily because this screams, “I love you,” too, of course it does. Still, it’s nice to say it. To taste and words and let them roll around in his mouth. 

“I love you too, Iwa-chan.” 

And it’s true, it’s so true, it’s so true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!


	3. "lucky i'm in love with my best friend." - jason mraz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi reaches up for Oikawa’s chin and leans forward.  
>  _God, the butterflies never do go away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i missed iwaoi
> 
> scales of intensity: 
> 
> angst: 2/10  
> fluff: 7.5/10  
> lemon: 1/10
> 
> prompt (day 3): established relationship 
> 
> happy reading!!

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, “I’m lucky to have you.” 

“Where’s this coming from?” Iwaizumi presses a kiss to Oikawa’s forehead. They’re on the couch of their apartment, clothes melting into one another and Oikawa’s hands in Iwaizumi’s hair. Warming up from the freezing outside after a walk at Oikawa’s insistence. He had thought it was too stuffy to stay inside all day. 

“What? I can’t be nice to my boyfriend now?” Oikawa hits Iwaizumi with the tassel on their old blanket.

“Well. You aren’t.” 

Oikawa elbows him, dropping the blanket over them. “I’m always nice to you. I’m the nicest.” 

“Jokes.” 

Oikawa kicks his leg. 

“Did you read some article or whatever?” Iwaizumi asks. That would explain why Oikawa’s being nice.

“No.” 

“Then what?”

“Nothing.” 

Iwaizumi waits. 

“I just saw someone who was in love with someone who probably didn’t love them back and I remembered that stage and I’m glad we’re out of that.”

“Fucking sap.” Iwaizumi grins at him. 

“So vulgar! 

Iwaizumi kisses his neck. He nips playfully.

“Don’t play dirty.”

“Me? Never.” 

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’ve been taking lessons from you.”

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa sighs, mock exasperated, but he’s smiling too.

Iwaizumi kisses his neck again. “Who was it? 

“These kids on campus. First years.” Oikawa picks up one of Iwaizumi’s hands, running his hands over the dry skin of Iwaizumi’s wrist. 

“Pass me the cream,” Oikawa says absentmindedly. Iwaizumi reaches over to their side table, next to the couch, full of old study notes with rings of coffee stains, and knickknacks. He grabs the aloe vera cream and passes it to Oikawa. 

“You’re awful with this, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa rubs the cream over Iwaizumi’s dry hands and wrists.

“It’s cold outside.” Iwaizumi’s skin always gets dry in the winter. 

“Wow. Really.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Oikawa grins. “One of the first years was in it deep.”

“Yeah?” 

“Hanging onto every word of the other girl, all attentive and sweet and it’s definitely her first love.” Oikawa smiles wistfully. “Poor girl.” 

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. 

“It was clearly one sided. The girl didn’t return her feelings.” Oikawa brings Iwaizumi’s hands closer to his face and inspects the damage.

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“If she had liked the other girl back she would’ve noticed the looks and the laughs,” Oikawa says. “She didn’t.”

“Maybe they’re both oblivious.”

“I hope so.” Oikawa frowns at Iwaizumi’s hands. “They’re cracking, Iwa-chan.” Some of his dry skin is flaking.

“I know, Oikawa.” 

“That’s bad.” 

“I know.” 

Oikawa sighs, exasperated at Iwaizumi, and works the last of the cream into his skin. He’s focussed, adorably, on taking care of Iwaizumi’s hands. Iwaizumi supposes it’s like high school, where he took care of Oikawa’s hands all the time. Bracing them with tape, carrying extra splits after an incident in second year, making sure Oikawa didn’t burn them on the stove even if Oikawa teased him endlessly.

Iwaizumi watches Oikawa handle his own hands with care. And now the tables have turned.

“Thank you,” Oikawa says softly.

“What?” 

Oikawa’s blushing. His fingers dig into his skin more, massaging the cream with more force. 

Iwaizumi’s a little lost. 

Oikawa clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “Thank you for loving me back.” 

Oikawa used to be in the girl’s shoes. His unrequited love for Iwaizumi had spanned for more than a decade, through high school and the first few years of college. Oikawa had never talked about it, but when Iwaizumi looks back in retrospect, it was clear Oikawa had loved him. Does love him.

And Oikawa’s looking down at Iwaizumi’s hands, still trying to soothe the cracked skin with cream with mindful eyes.

Iwaizumi reaches up for Oikawa’s chin and leans forward. 

_God, the butterflies never do go away._

“You must’ve tricked me,” Iwaizumi says, and then kisses Oikawa again before he can protest. 

Oikawa’s pulling him in with hands in his hair even when they separate. He never wants to let go after they kiss.

“Don’t know how to explain this,” Iwaizumi says, a hair’s breadth away from Oikawa’s lips. “But you can’t thank me for something that wasn’t really in my power.” 

Oikawa rocks forwards roughly at that, kissing him a centimetre off his mouth. 

“If anything,” Iwaizumi watches Oikawa’s brown eyes. They have this certain texture when the two of them kiss, as if he’s drinking in the fact he’s holding Iwaizumi. “If anything, thanks for not giving up on me.” 

Oikawa chokes on a laugh. “Can’t thank me for that either then.” 

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa didn’t like being in love with him. That unrequited period had been miserable . Iwaizumi had only been in love with Oikawa for a few months before they had gotten together, so he got off easy. Pining for years, Oikawa’s end, sounded like constant torture.

“And you’re a fucking sap,” Oikawa parrots when they break away.

Iwaizumi kisses him again. 

“Is it a full moon?” Oikawa asks. “You’re being too nice.” Full moons make strange things occur, at least to Oikawa. He’s the superstitious one of them. 

“So are you. I feel like you want something.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sulks. 

Iwaizumi glances out their window. The moon isn’t visible yet. “I don’t know.” 

“If you’re offering,” Oikawa says. “I do want something. I want you to take care of your hands.” 

“I do.” 

“Not well enough.” Oikawa holds up his dry hands. “Use this.” He sticks the cream in the air. Iwaizumi takes it and puts it back on their side table, carefully making sure nothing falls off. They need to clean this weekend. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says. 

“I know.” 

Oikawa sticks out his bottom lip at Iwaizumi. “Look after yourself.” 

Iwaizumi just looks at him. Oikawa always ends up helping him anyway as he grumbles and makes fun of Iwaizumi. It’s the same way how Iwaizumi will mock Oikawa’s taste in drinks but still buy the expensive peach whip almond milk contraption for him after class. 

“I won’t always do it for you,” Oikawa protests. 

“I’m sure you won’t.” Iwaizumi’s sure he will. 

Oikawa groans. “I shouldn’t have to. You should be okay on your own.” 

“I didn’t say you have to.” Iwaizumi grins. “You do it out of your own free will.”

Oikawa groans again, frustrated. “Iwa-chan. I could also stop out of my own will.” 

“Sure. You could.”

Oikawa flops against Iwaizumi and starts drawing patterns with his fingers over Iwaizumi’s chest. He’s too tired to argue.

“Thank you,” Iwaizumi says against the crown of Oikawa's head. “Thank you for loving me back, too.” 

Oikawa sighs, deep and slow. He tilts his head up and smiles.

Butterflies. They might as well be a part of Iwaizumi’s chest at his point.

“I guess we’re lucky to have each other.” Oikawa intertwines their fingers and kisses Iwaizumi’s knuckles.

“Damn right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i used the dry wrist idea in _he looks like artwork_ what about it


	4. "love so strong it makes you feel so weak." - coyote theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi knows how to make flower crowns and Oikawa's a king. And his tactile boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scales of intensity: 
> 
> fluff: 7.5/10  
> angst: 0/10  
> lemon: 1.5/10 (kissing)
> 
> prompt (day 4): flowers <3
> 
> props to my fabulous sister for betaing! 
> 
> god i fucking love iwaoi

Iwaizumi Hajime plucks another dandelion, careful to keep the stem intact. He winds it through the growing loops of his half-crown, wondering if he’ll need more for Oikawa Tooru’s big head. 

Said Oikawa is asleep after dozing off a few feet away from Iwaizumi in overgrown grass and weeds, a field littered in dandelions. The two of them are visiting Miyagi before college kicks up again, helping their parents with housework maintenance and spending time with siblings. 

As of right now, Iwaizumi’s younger sister, Aiko and Oikawa’s younger sister, Hana, are across the field with a soccer ball. Footwork drills of some sort. Iwaizumi and Oikawa played Hana and Aiko for an hour before collapsing. Iwaizumi shouldn’t be missing the energy from youth, he’s only twenty-three goddammit.

Aiko showed him how to make flower crowns a few summers ago. The trick is to go slowly, working with the stems instead of against them. It took Iwaizumi months to not crush the stems or give up halfway through. Oikawa’s patience is short, of course it is, so he settles for rings. 

But now they have time, yards and skies full of it. It’s a lazy Sunday with obligations that can be left until after dinner. 

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa shades his eyes with his hand, rolling over to Iwaizumi’s side, heavy with sleep. “It’s too bright.” 

“That’s called the sun, you idiot.” 

“I know,” Oikawa says petulantly. “But it’s too bright.” 

Iwaizumi sighs with affection. Oikawa nudges his head onto Iwaizumi’s lap, cheek resting on his thigh. 

“Is that for me?” Oikawa reaches up for the crown. 

Iwaizumi shoves his hand away. “It’s not done. And who said it was for you?” 

“Mmm.” Oikawa curls his legs up in the grass. “Thank you.” 

He’s like a cat. Iwaizumi teases a hand through Oikawa’s hair, feeling for measurements and then goes back to the crown. Pluck a dandelion with as much stem as possible, loop it around carefully, tighten, and thumb off the excess. 

It’s a calming routine. Honestly, it feels like a movie, those huge Victorian acres and wine farms or those animated pans of the brilliant sky. 

Hana and Aiko are small specks on the horizon. If Iwaizumi’s right, they’re making their way back over. Maybe they should all go get drinks. There’s a vending machine around the corner. They’re lucky it’s windy today, countering the sun and dry air. Miyagi should get a rainstorm soon.

Iwaizumi is almost done with his crown when Oikawa wakes up again. He rolls over so he’s facing Iwaizumi, and pokes his stomach. 

“Hey!” Iwaizumi glares at him. Now he has to redo that flower. 

Okawa blows him a kiss.

“What.” 

Oikawa’s squinting from the sun. “Lean over me a little.” 

Iwaizumi’s doubtful, but he does it. 

“Thank you.” Oikawa, now in the shade, grins that self-satisfied grin of his. 

“Wait, what? No.” Iwaizumi leans back and the sun hits Oikawa again. 

“Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah?” 

“Meanie.” 

“Oh, suffer.” Iwaizumi pats his head. Oikawa groans, and sits up. He blinks, reorienting himself and spotting their sisters still exercising.

“Watching them makes me tired,” Oikawa says. He leans against Iwaizumi’s side, a dead weight save for the hand that reaches up to play with Iwaizumi’s hair. “Were we like that?” 

“You’re still like that.” Whenever Oikawa’s not studying, he’s in their college’s gym, practicing like there’s no tomorrow.

“Good for me.” 

“Yep.” 

Oikawa presses his lips to Iwaizumi’s neck, just about the neckline of his shirt. Again, just because he can. And this—this is also out of a movie. 

“Here.” Oikawa hands Iwaizumi a dandelion.

“That stem is too short, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi plucks a different one. 

Oikawa sighs dramatically. “The world’s against me today.” He discards the flower. 

“That’s your own clumsiness.” Oikawa dropped his coffee and tripped on the stairs this morning.

“I have no such thing.” Oikawa passes Iwaizumi a dandelion with a longer stem. “This okay?” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi takes it. He needs about five more. 

When they first started dating, in the third year of high school, Iwaizumi had jumped at every touch. Oikawa was such a tactile boyfriend, holding hands and hugs from behind, fixing Iwaizumi’s uniform and kisses whenever they were alone. He wasn’t necessarily _clingy_ , just overly affectionate and his hands were always wandering up Iwaizumi’s shirt or in his hair. 

Now, it was routine for Oikawa to wash Iwaizumi’s hair in the shower, press kisses into his stomach as they watched a movie, grab hands in lieu of mits. So the fingers in Iwaizumi’s hair are natural. 

Iwaizumi tightens the last dandelion stem on the crown, using his nail to cut off the extra stem. Finished. 

“Done.” Oikawa perks up at the word, shifting to sit in front of Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi lifts up the crown, waiting until Oikawa’s moved his hair out of his eyes, and places it on his boyfriend. The line of yellow bursts, petals circling his hair is pretty. It’s stupid, really, how pretty Oikawa can look everywhere. Even in the ratty pair of jeans and tee-shirt he’s wearing now, he looks _good._

“Why are you mad?” Oikawa adjusts it gently. “It fits perfectly.” 

“Nothing.” Iwaizumi realizes he’s frowning. “I’m not mad.” 

Iwaizumi reaches up, fixing some of Oikawa’s hair. The crown rests on his forehead, looping above his temples and damn, Iwaizumi wants to kiss his pretty face and bash it in. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Oikawa says.

“You’re the worst, Oikawa.” 

“I am,” Oikawa agrees. “But so are you.” 

“That’s true.” Deep down, Iwaizumi knows if anything had to define him, it’d be luck. He’s lucky Oikawa’s with him. It’s obnoxious, how he considers himself lucky to make Oikawa flower crowns and sit with him in a field, this is _Oikawa Tooru_ they’re talking about, but Iwaizumi is, admittedly, lucky. 

Or maybe Iwaizumi’s consciousness is just the worst and makes him fall in love with the most annoying people.

“I don’t mind being the worst with you.” Oikawa loves embarrassing Iwaizumi. He never said cheesy or sappy or disgustingly sweet things until he realized Iwaizumi would blush, Iwaizumi would get flustered and hit him after. The things he does for attention.

Iwaizumi sighs. “Oikawa.”

“Mmm?” Oikawa tilts his head, and fuck the light for making him look like that.

“I made you a flower crown. Shut up now,” Iwaizumi says. 

“Never.” Oikawa pulls on the front of Iwaizumi’s tee-shirt. “Make me.” That line’s so old, so overused. Oikawa rambles for hours and hours and hours unless Iwaizumi physically shuts him up one way or another. 

“Fine.” 

Iwaizumi lets Oikawa tug him forwards. 

Maybe the line isn’t overused if it makes Iwaizumi’s heart drop to the discarded dandelions and back up to Oikawa’s crown. 

Even when Oikawa kisses, it’s tactile. Lots of feeling and touches—fingernails scratching Iwaizumi’s back over his shoulders and their bodies leaning towards each other. 

Oikawa sighs against Iwaizumi’s lips. He pulls back. 

“Give me your hand.” Oikawa plucks a long dandelion from the grass. He takes Iwaizumi’s hand and lays it out. 

Struggling, Oikawa wraps the stem around Iwaizumi’s pointer finger of his left hand, knotting it twice.

“Now you have to stay with me.” Oikawa admires his handiwork. 

“Mhmm.” Iwaizumi says, “Not like I could take it off or _accidentally_ crush it.” 

“You better not.” Oikawa narrows his eyes. 

“I won’t.” Iwaizumi looks at it too. It took Oikawa less than a minute, using a random dandelion from a random park in Miyagi, but now it’s special. He’ll keep it until it wilts. And then Oikawa will probably grad them out there again, and he’ll get another ring, and Iwaizumi will make Oikawa another crown. 

Hardly a fair trade, if you were to ask him. 

Still. 

Iwaizumi watches Oikawa pick up Iwaizumi’s hand and kiss the back of his hand. 

“You’re a sap.” 

“I made you a flower ring. Now shut up.” 

“Never.” Iwaizumi isn’t going to say it. 

Oikawa waits. 

“Make me.” Iwaizumi says it.

Oikawa laughs. “Sure.” 

The line isn’t overused. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone let me make you a flower crown and kiss you in a field and fall desperately in love with you because we're childhood friends who've grown up together


	5. "forever is a long time, but i wouldn't mind spending it by your side." - he is we

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa cuts Iwaizumi's hair in quarantine. Iwaizumi wants to cut down Oikawa's attitude. Mocha cakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scales of intensity:
> 
> fluff: 8/10  
> angst: 0/10  
> lemon: 0/10
> 
> prompt: fluff (day 5)
> 
> i'm aware it's out of order but i'm lonely and didn't want to write day 3's established relationship *sobs* so take this
> 
> just a lot of banter tbh <3

"Iwa-chan. Do you trust me?" Oikawa holds up a pair of scissors. 

"Absolutely not." 

"Well, too bad. Sit down." 

Iwaizumi reluctantly sits in the isolated dining chair in the middle of their living room. There are flattened recycling bags under the wooden chair, and a garbage bag next to Oikawa. 

"You look too happy holding scissors like that.”

Oikawa pointedly snips them.

"Just a little shorter, okay?" Iwaizumi needs his hair cut badly, and Oikawa insisted he would do it. It's too dangerous to go outside, he insisted. Iwaizumi's not sure if it would be more dangerous than letting Oikawa close to his head with pointy metal things. 

"You underestimate my skill." 

"I saw what you did to your hair in first-year middle school." Oikawa winces at the memory of the haircut, or lopsided monstrosity he tried to give himself that made him cry for three days straight. His mom had patched it up somewhat.

"I am a changed man," Oikawa declares, swapping the scissors for a hairbrush. It's a Sunday, and both of their schedules are free so Oikawa wrangled him into this. "Although I like your hair long." It's longer than it's ever been, tickling the back of Iwaizumi's neck and almost down to his shirt collar. Oikawa starts brushing it, working out the few knots that are there. 

"I don't." He has to constantly push it out of his face. He even started using some gel to keep it up. Oikawa's hair is long too, and like now, he uses black elastics to tie it up into a fountain on the top of his head. It's adorable and makes Iwaizumi want to kiss and bully him. 

"Makes you look like a medieval knight.”

"It makes me look stupid.”

“To fix that you'd have to change your whole face." 

"Have you looked in the mirror?" Iwaizumi resists the urge to turn around and glare at Oikawa. "Actually, of course you have. That's all you do.” 

"Don't be so mean to the person holding scissors by your carotid artery." Oikawa tuts, hands working out one knot. "Who chooses if you live or die." 

"Death would be merciful." 

Oikawa finishes brushing it, running his fingers through it to make sure he's got all the knots out. It would be therapeutic except for the fact it's Oikawa who's equally likely to pull his hair out if he sees one grey hair as he is to being a normal human.

"Shittykawa—" Iwaizumi hisses when Oikawa yanks on one spot.

"Sorry, sorry." Oikawa smooths it over. "I'm going to spray water on it now." 

"I can run my hair under the sink." 

"Ummm." Oikawa doesn't like that prospect. "No." Iwaizumi watches as Oikawa walks around their living room, searching. He bypasses their teetering pile of books and "charity donations" from Mattsun that apparently were from some PostDocs that left the country, until he gets to their two sad plants. Oikawa killed the other five he had wanted, being overgenerous with water. 

"Here!" Oikawa holds up their plant watering spritzer victoriously. "Perfect." 

"I'm not a plant." 

"Of course not, Iwa-chan," Oikawa soothes. "Plants don’t need haircuts from their boyfriends.." 

Sometimes they fall into old banter like this. The high school types, and high school Iwaizumi would be appalled by how Iwaizumi just takes it now. 

"Don't look so happy about spraying me in the face." 

"Don't look so unhappy about me cutting your hair." 

Iwaizumi smiles with no emotion. "Happy?" 

Oikawa mists Iwaizumi in the face. 

"Oikawa!" 

"Nope," Oikawa sings, pulling a towel around Iwaizumi’s shoulders. He sprays the misting bottle, flipping up layers of Iwaizumi's hair to dampen his entire head. "If it's good enough for the plants it's good enough for you."

Iwaizumi stares straight ahead. 

Oikawa goes back to humming his annoying song, spraying happily.

"Yknow, Iwa-chan," Oikawa starts. 

"No." Iwaizumi senses Oikawa's bad joke coming. 

"If I water you, maybe you'll grow some more." Oikawa laughs, spraying directly onto the top of Iwaizumi's head. 

"You little shit." Iwaizumi spins around and swats Oikawa, who's well out of his arm's length by now. He's not that stupid. "I'm going to a salon." 

"You are not." Oikawa's eyes are still dancing. "I refuse." 

"I refuse you." 

Oikawa laughs. "Sit."

Iwaizumi fixes him with an annoyed look before sitting back down. 

"At least I didn't dump the entire thing on your head." 

"Just get to it, Shittykawa." 

Oikawa sighs. He continues spraying, careful not to let water drip over Iwaizumi's eyes. Despite what Iwaizumi says, he trusts Oikawa. With his life for sure. A haircut? Not so much. But Oikawa does try at things like this, he likes tackling little projects and turning them into a reality. Learning sign language, making candles for them, how to juggle, little things. And Oikawa's not horrible with fashion. 

"Just a little," Iwaizumi reminds when Oikawa picks up the scissors again. 

"I know, I know." Oikawa holds tuffs of his hair with one hand and trims with the other. The scissors snip audibly as locks of Iwaizumi's hair fall into the recycling bags on the floor. The bathroom was too small to do this. 

"You would look good with a mohawk." 

"Huh?" 

"A mohawk. Or a mullet." Oikawa snips at the right side of his head. "Let me give you a mullet." 

"Let me bash your head in." 

"So vulgar, Iwa-chan." Iwaizumi can picture Oikawa shaking his head behind him. "How will you find anyone to marry you?" 

"Maybe I won't. I'll be sad and lonely forever." 

"Poor Iwa-chan." 

"Oh, and fuck off, asshole. You find it weird when I don't swear." 

"That's because it is." 

"Yeah, so." 

"Are you proposing?" 

"What?" Iwaizumi wants to turn around and face Oikawa properly. "Are you?" 

"Do you want me to?" 

"Huh?" 

"Do you want me to propose?" Oikawa asks easily, snipping another column of hair. They've talked about it once or twice but Iwaizumi hasn't given it much thought. They're both young, and can hold each other. Weddings are expensive and messy affairs in Japan ever since all LGBTQ+ weddings became legal. It's a great step, but there's still lots of revision to be done. Trial and error. 

"Do you want to get married?" They're both asking questions and not answering. 

"Do you?" 

"I asked first."

"How childish can you get." 

"Iwa-chan!" 

It's quiet, but Iwizumi can practically hear the smoke coming out of Oikawa's ears. He's thinking. Iwaizumi does too. Marriage. Weddings. Cake. Rings. Vows. Does he want that? Well, sure. It doesn't mean too much to Iwaizumi since he already has Oikawa. Married or not, they're still going to be here and bantering on Sunday afternoons. Nothing's going to change that; they've got childhood and teenage years backing that up. Oikawa would probably like a wedding. A giant party and lots of cake. Mocha cake, probably.

"Cut the other side too," Iwaizumi reminds. The scissors have been hovering over the right side of his head for a while now.

"I don't think I will," Oikawa decides although Iwaizumi feels him moving over. "I like it lopsided. It matches your brain." 

"You're the emotionally stunted one of us. Always overthinking and shit." 

"You choose to stay with the emotionally stunted one. What does that say about you, huh?" 

"You're right. I should leave." Iwaizumi stays in his chair. "Be a free man." 

Oikawa huffs. "You'd be lonely." 

"I'd be free." 

"Lonely." 

"Free." 

"I'd be lonely." 

"So?" 

"You'd feel it through our telepathic bond and feel lonely too." 

"Huh?" 

"Keep up, really, Iwa-chan." Oikawa's working above his ear now, cold metal grazing the shell of his ear. 

"The fuck." 

"Just stay with me. That solves all the issues." 

"What about my sanity?" 

"That was never there." 

"True."   
  
  
  


"I think it looks pretty good." Oikawa's standing in front of Iwaizumi, examining his face and haircut. He tilts Iwaizumi's head with his hands, fussing over certain chunks of hair and trimming it. 

"Okay, it's good then." Iwaizumi's tired of his head being manhandled by Oikawa. 

"No, wait." Oikawa's been styling his hair for about half an hour now, insisting it's not perfect. "Just a little more." 

"That's what you said before." 

"Hush, Iwa-chan. You can't rush art." 

"It's a haircut. No one's even really going to see it." Iwaizumi seldomly leaves the house. Since quarantine started, it only goes outside for walks early in the morning with Oikawa to avoid people and to the grocery store. Once they went to a pharmacy to get Oikawa joint cream, and that was a big deal.

"Your professors and classmates might." For school.

"And?" 

"Just let me do this." Oikawa fiddles with the hair near his forehead, straightening it out with his fingers and then snipping it decidedly before letting it fall. He's adding layers. 

Iwaizumi sighs. If he doesn't stay still Oikawa will come for his head later, claiming it looks bad and he needs to fix it. Then they'll have to go through this whole debacle again. 

Hair falls onto his bare feet and it tickles. Iwaizumi flexes his ankles. He didn't think cutting his hair would take hours. Oikawa's still humming—always humming, he is—as he cuts. 

"Do you need your hair cut?" Iwaizumi eyes Oikawa's hair, the satellite on the top of his head. It's longer, for sure, and pretty voluptuous with the fluffy way it is. 

"I like it long," Oikawa says. "I like feeling like a medieval knight." 

"You sure?" 

"Besides being a pain to wash, yeah." Iwaizumi now understands why his sisters went through so much shampoo. Hair is hard to upkeep. "And I don't want you to cut it." 

"Huh?" 

"It would be even worse than first year middle school." Oikawa shuffles to work on the top of his head. "And I have appearances to keep up." 

"For who? The birds?" Oikawa's itching for quarantine to go back to normal. He misses hanging out with Suga and their friends from Seijoh at parks and bars. 

"For me," Oikawa huffs. 

"Then why do you walk around with that mop on your head?" 

"Because it's better than whatever you'll do," Oikawa says practically.

"Where's the faith in me?" Cut hair falls in front of Iwaizumi's eyes.

Oikawa tuts. "Out the window after you poisoned my drink."

"That was a mistake, okay? I didn't know you had a special mix for that type of milk, stupid." Oikawa also picked up the hobby of making his own fancy drinks at home. He'd asked Iwaizumi to bring him a mocha fancy whatever whatever (Iwaizumi forgot the name) and Iwaizumi hadn't known Oikawa had made a library full of mixes to use. 

"I know, I know." Oikawa laughs. "Sometimes Iwa-chan's small brain can't handle my masterful theories." 

"It's a theory of hot chocolate." 

"Iwa-chan! That's important." Oikawa steps back to look at his hair again. He nods once. "I think it's done." 

"Finally." Iwaizumi starts to get up.

"Wait." Oikawa brushes off the top of his head and shoulders, loose hair falling down the plastic bag Iwaizumi's wearing. He uses the scissors to cut it off, leaving Iwazumi in the middle of a plastic bag wasteland and tiny hair pieces. 

"Go shower," Oikawa instructs. "Do not get hair everywhere."

Iwaizumi resists the urge to scratch his head. It feels weird. "Okay."  
  


Iwaizumi's got to admit, Oikawa did a good job. Even though it's still drying from his shower Iwaizumi can tell it isn't as lopsided as it felt when he was cutting it, and it's nicely layered. 

"Good, right?" Oikawa's chin perches on his shoulder. They're looking into their bathroom mirror. "Maybe I should go into hairstyling." 

Iwaizumi turns his head left and right to examine it. Then he turns to Oikawa and pokes his side. 

"Ow! What was that for?" 

"Why did you actually do a good job?" Oikawa's naturally good at a lot of things, and now Iwaizumi can add haircutting to that list. 

"What?" Oikawa looks offended. "Did you think I was going to mess it up?" 

"Maybe. You were talking about mohawks." Iwaizumi shakes his head once, the hair falling naturally back into how Oikawa cut it. 

"Now where's the faith in me?" Oikawa sulks. 

Iwaizumi turns to him. "Thank you," he says begrudgingly.

Oikawa grins. "Well, I couldn't just let you suffer on your own. It was starting to look like a bird's nest, but lucky for you, you have me and I am an officially trained professional with hair—"

Iwaizumi kisses him to shut him up. Maybe he should go look for giant mocha cakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is cutting your s.o.'s hair the most domestic thing since the beginning of time? you fucking bet.
> 
> my sister betad. (betaed?) thank you hoe.
> 
> title quote is from i wouldn't mind (artist: he is we) ily guys!


	6. “we can always play by ear, and that’s the deal my dear.” - shakira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings and overthinking come hand in hand with dating your best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scales of intensity: 
> 
> fluff: 7/10  
> angst: 3/10  
> lemon: 3/10 (talk about it, thoughts, nothing explicit)
> 
> prompt: best friends to lovers (kisses too?)
> 
> heads up! some of the scenes in this short are supposed to be a little awkward and if you don't like second hand embarrassment just be warned.
> 
> \--- indicates a pov change
> 
> shakira title from the song whenever, wherever

“Iwa-chan, why don’t you do anything romantic for me?” Oikawa twirled the spoon in his mango topped shaved ice.

“I paid for this.” Iwaizumi shoved another spoonful of ice dripping in mango sauce and mochi in his mouth. “It’s that good enough?” He asked around the spoon.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa looked around at the practically empty cafe, like _can you believe the nerve of this guy?_

“We’re sharing this. That’s romantic.” 

“But we did that before we were dating too,” Oikawa complained. 

“Yeah, and you wonder why everyone at Seijoh thought we were dating.” Oikawa huffed. Makki and Mattsun teased them about it incessantly. Kindaichi had fully thought Oikawa and Iwaizumi were dating in his first year, and only learned they weren’t when Oikawa and Iwaizumi _actually_ got together four months ago. 

“You can share ice cream platonically.” 

“Well, you can’t date platonically. That’s some k-drama plot right there,” Iwaizumi said. He poked the top of the Korean based shaved ice dessert, which collapsed and melted into the sweet syrup. 

Oikawa pressed his lips together. He knew Iwaizumi wasn’t the most romantic person ever, bypassing Valentine’s chocolates and the coupley gestures but still—would it kill him to actually show affection?

Oikawa’s love language was physical touch. Iwaizumi wasn’t like that. Well, he did reach out, and the sparseness of affection only made Oikawa treasure the kisses in between classes or being pulled down into his lap after a long day more, but Iwaizumi Hajime wasn’t romantic.

Neither was Oikawa, you could say. He was flitty about initiating cuddles or reaching out to hold hands as they walked home. 

Technically, they were dating, Iwaizumi was his boyfriend— _boyfriend!_ —but it wasn’t much different from before. 

They still spent hours in each other’s rooms, Oikawa pointing out Iwaizumi’s messes and Iwaizumi threatening to toss him out. They still swapped water bottles when they forgot to fill them up, still walked to and from school together, still made fun of each other’s existence. Makki said they’d been dating before they knew it. 

And it was good—don’t get him wrong—it was amazing to have Iwaizumi as a boyfriend. Six months ago Oikawa would’ve fainted from that idea. 

But Oikawa wanted to enjoy all the boyfriend benefits. Including the tactile ones. The romantic ones, the sweet things only couples did. 

“Okay.” Iwaizumi leaned back in his chair like he was anticipating work. “What do you want?” 

“For starters,” Oikawa cooed. “Poetry.” 

“You want me to write poetry?” Iwaizumi was incredulous. “Like poems?” 

“I am a worthy muse, you know.” Oikawa scooped more shaved ice. “You’ve got lots to work with.”

“Poetry,” Iwaizumi said doubtfully. “Poetry?” 

Oikawa laughed. “No, not really. Unless you want to.” 

Iwaizumi blinked, as if Oikawa would go away if he focussed hard enough.

“And,” Oikawa announced. “Love letters. Every day.” 

Iwaizumi’s eyes crawled up further on his head. 

“You would also have a lot to work with there.” 

Iwaizumi watched him warily. 

“Don’t look so scared, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa stabbed the ice with a little too much force. The bowl slid a few centimetres. “White Day’s coming up in a week or so. The 14th.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi was still cautious.

“So we get to swap gifts again.” 

“What did you give me on Valentine’s day again?” Iwaizumi asked mindlessly.

Oikawa’s eyes cut to him. 

“Oh shit,” Iwaizumi said. 

“Oh shit indeed.” Oikawa pointed the spoon at him accusingly. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember.” 

“I remember.” Iwaizumi nodded. “I remember.” 

“Good,” Oikawa said. “Three-fold back, right?” 

“Right.” 

\---

Iwaizumi didn’t remember. Can you blame him? He’d been so stressed on what to get Oikawa, the guy who got every chocolate under the sun from girls and was picky with the brands he’d even look at.

If he recalled correctly, for Valentine’s Day he’d made Oikawa a playlist and took him out for ramen. Standard date stuff. Oikawa got him, uh, well, it wasn’t chocolates or sweets or anything like that. 

Oh! Iwaizumi remembered. It had been a guitar pick, one of those collectibles from his favourite band. Iwaizumi used it every day. 

Fuck. He had to match that, and give back three times over. 

“Mattsun,” Iwaizumi hissed on their walk home, a few blocks before Makki and Mattsun broke off from Oikawa and Iwaizumi. 

“Yeah?” Mattsun turned to him. 

“What are you getting Makki for White day?” 

Mattsun shrugged. “Last year I made Makki a mixtape since he’s a sucker for those. I’ll probably just make another this year, but with more of his new songs. We don’t do much.” 

Iwaizumi had already used up the music idea. Playlists weren’t tangible like mixtapes but Iwaizumi couldn’t reuse the idea for Oikawa. It had to be _romantic._ Ugh. “What’d he give you?” 

“We celebrated the next weekend, because the next day after White Day there was that killer physics test, and he made me a shit ton of food.” Mattsun’s face looked dreamy. “Lots of chocolate too.” 

Iwaizumi watched Makki and Oikawa laugh about some teacher in front of Iwaizumi and Mattsun.

“Why?” Mattsun grinned that crooked smile of his. “Are you stressed?” 

Iwaizumi shot Oikawa a glare through the back of his head. “I need something a little more romantic and less generic.” 

“Why? Oikawa seems like he’d appreciate the run of mill movie night and make out. Or whatever base you guys are at,” Mattsun said. 

“He asked me why I don’t do anything romantic for him the other day,” Iwaizumi admitted. 

“Was he just bullshitting?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Oikawa fucks around a lot like that,” Mattsun said. “Don’t stress over it.” 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi sighed. “I just—you know?” 

“Yep.” Mattsun nodded. “Yep.”

\---

“Hey.” Iwaizumi ambushed Oikawa after English Lit in the crowded hallway. “Come here.” 

Oikawa smiled at his gaggle of friends in salutation and rerouted to follow Iwaizumi. His next class, History was all the way across the school and the opposite direction they were going in. 

“Yeah?” Oikawa said, weaving around students to keep up. “What’s up?” 

Iwaizumi kept walking. They walked past the art room, and into the hallway leading to the school’s garden. 

“Just.” Iwaizumi turned around, papers sticking out of his textbook. He licked his lips. “Missed you.” 

Warm affection filled Oikawa’s chest. “After only two periods?” He teased.

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi set his textbooks on the floor. “Also—” Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa’s tie with his hands, readjusting the red knot. 

He was close, the invading-personal-space close. Oikawa knew Iwaizumi wasn’t aware this was intimate, he was just doing it on reflex. Even when they hadn’t been dating, or caught feelings for one another Oikawa and Iwaizumi were quick to point out untucked blazers and mismatching buttons that would result in an office slip. Oikawa was fine-tuned to when they touched, any contact at all because he easily noticed its absence.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Iwaizumi pulled on the tie to tighten it. He knew Oikawa liked it snug. “It is too tight?” 

_No,_ Oikawa thought viciously. _Mind—no. No thoughts like that on school premises._

‘Uh, no,” Oikawa said, the pinnacle of intelligence. “It’s good.” 

Iwaizumi’s hands dropped from Oikawa’s neck like he realized what Oikawa was thinking. 

“Thanks.” Oikawa swallowed once, his throat against the collar of his shirt with the tie sitting under it. 

“Okay.” Iwaizumi looked unsure. “So, I’ll see you after History?” 

“Of course.” As if that was a question. They always walked home together. “Try not to miss me too much.” 

Iwaizumi scowled. Ah, there was the grumpy side of him.

“I won’t,” Iwaizumi said.

“Okay, then, bye for now, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa really needed to get to History. He took a step back towards the classrooms. 

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi’s feet were still planted in the hallway. 

“Yeah?” 

Iwaizumi’s hand wrapped around just under the knot of Oikawa’s tie, tugging him down, down and towards Iwaizumi.

Oikawa’s eyes widened just as they kissed. 

And there was his silly heart, jumping like a gushy sap and his hands, rising to touch Iwaizumi’s hair.

Iwaizumi broke away first, flushed and Oikawa was so tempted to just ditch their next class and make out.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Iwaizumi was back to glaring. 

“No reason,” Oikawa said. “Why’d you kiss me?” 

“No reason.” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Okay.” 

\--

School ended up crunching down on them—physics again—and Iwaizumi had to put thoughts of Oikawa’s gift in the back of his mind. Maybe if the thought marinated enough he’d get a good idea. 

He did not. 

“Oikawa—” Iwaizumi just wanted to ask him what he wanted. Was he serious about poetry and love letters? Iwaizumi couldn’t write normal essays for the life of him. 

“Yeah?” Oikawa turned around in his chair with wheels, feet pushing him along. 

“What do you want for White Day?” Iwaizumi flipped over from his homework, sitting up on the edge of Oikawa’s bed. One of them always takes the bed, and one takes the desk.

“You haven’t gotten me anything?” Oikawa looked betrayed. 

“There are still two days left,” Iwaizumi defended. “I’m thinking, okay?” 

Oikawa’s mouth dropped a little. “Are you stressing over it?”

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi glared at him. “I’m trying my best.”

“Oh, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa smiled. “Whatever you get me will be fine. I don’t really care that much.” 

“What?” Iwaizumi glared at him. 

Oikawa came to sit in front of him on the bed, legs crossed and hands in his lap. “I mean, like, you could get me a pile of mud you perfected and I’d treasure it.” 

“Wait. What?” Iwaizumi was skeptical. “That’s not what you said a week ago.” 

Oikawa fiddled with his fingers. 

“Spit it out.” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Bullshit.” Iwaizumi poked his leg. “If anything, you know better than me. Speak.” 

Oikawa slumped forwards, onto his hands framing his face. 

“I thought you wanted romantic stuff,” Iwaizumi reasoned. “You know I’m inexperienced when it comes to that kind of stuff.” 

“I don’t want stuff,” Oikawa said.

“What.” He wants a gift for White Day but not stuff; and holy couldn’t Oikawa just tell him 1) 2) and 3)?

“I don’t want _stuff_ ,” Oikawa repeated. “I just—ugh.” He ran a hand over his bedsheets. 

“What.” Iwaizumi hated that Oikawa looked so uncomfortable. 

“I don’t want stuff, Iwa-chan, I just want to date you for real,” Oikawa said with a whoosh, rushing his words. 

“For real?” Iwaizumi felt like this was a circle. “Aren’t we dating for real?” As far as he was concerned, this wasn’t a k-drama. 

“I mean—” Oikawa shifted his legs, flexing his feet. “I mean like—” 

“Like what. Explain.” It’s hypothetically just a gift, just a holiday but it’s important to Oikawa and therefore important to Iwaizumi. He wants it to be decent, if not good and Oikawa’s just making this more aggravating. 

“Hey, hey.” Oikawa’s tone changed. “Hey, come here.” 

Iwaizumi realized his fists were clenched. He released them.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa reached out, wrapping an arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “We are dating for real, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Iwaizumi leans into his side. 

“You still have to explain,” Iwaizumi says roughly. 

“You look like you're going to freak out.” Oikawa squeezed his shoulder. “Please don’t.” 

“Please just—talk.” 

“Okay, okay, I mean.” Now that Oikawa was right next to him, Iwaizumi could feel the words tickling his neck and the uncertain lit in his voice. “I just want to do more stuff with you.” 

Iwaizumi swallowed. “Elaborate.” 

Oikawa’s forehead dropped onto his shoulder. “Like physical stuff,” he mumbled against Iwaizumi’s shirt. 

Iwaizumi waited. 

“Like, you know, when you pulled me into the hallway so we can kiss the other day, stuff like that. Not just when we miss each other.”

“So coupley things.” Kissing and touching and physical shit reserved for the person you’re dating.

“Yeah, coupley things,” Oikawa says. 

“Wait, are you like, looking for sex?” Iwaizumi had to know.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa squawked, hitting his shoulder. “No!” 

“You’re not?” 

“I am—I mean, no, well—not yet, ugh, I hate you so much.” Oikawa hit his shoulder again. Iwaizumi grinned. 

Oikawa shoved him good naturally. “I mean like cuddles and holding hands and making out. That kind of romance.”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi kinda got it?

“The whole thing about gifts isn’t really a big deal, I guess, it’s more about us being together and I wanted you to care just a little more but then you went and cared too much,” Oikawa explained. “I’m sorry about that.” 

“You want affection, is that what you’re saying basically?” 

Oikawa nodded. 

“Jeez, you can just start it, Shittykawa. And you could’ve told me straight up about it.”

“I know, I just wasn’t sure, I guess?” 

Iwaizumi spun around and flicked his forehead. “You gave me grey hair over that.” 

“Awww, that’s romantic of you,” Oikawa teased. “Caring enough about me.” 

“That hasn’t changed much. You always get into trouble.” 

“I do not.”

“Right.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “So just like this?” Iwaizumi leaned forwards and kissed Oikawa’s cheek before nerves could stop him. 

Oikawa hummed, pleased. His eyes danced. “Yeah, like that.” 

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware you were this needy when I signed up to date you,” Iwaizumi said with another kiss. “But, hey, really. You need to say something if it’s bothering you.”

“I didn’t want to come off as clingy.” 

“Really?” Iwaizumi threw a look at his best friend of over ten years. “I was surprised when you backed off when we started dating.” 

“Cause I didn’t know if I was going to overwhelm you.” Oikawa defended. 

“Just ask then.” 

“You didn’t tell me you were stressing this much over a gift until today.” 

Iwaizumi sighed. “So both of us need better communication.” 

“Guess so.” 

“Okay, I’m not a mind reader, so I won’t know what you want unless you tell me,” Iwaizumi said. “Or it’s super obvious. Just ask.” 

“Mmm, okay. You have to too, then.” 

“Fine.” Iwaizumi debated. “Wanna go out for more shaved ice on White Day?”

Oikawa grinned. “Yes.”

“And that’s okay?” 

“God, yes, Iwa-chan. It’s uncharacteristic of you to worry so much.” 

“Shut up, stupid.” 

Oikawa laughed with joy. “It’s nice.” 

“Mhmm.” 

Iwaizumi could sense Oikawa wanted to ask something. 

“Hey, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa was smiling.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi pushing hair out of Oikawa’s face. 

“Wanna make out?” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am but a slave for fictional characters. would i change it? no.
> 
> also. communication. good shit.


	7. "i wish that it could be like that, why can't we be like that? cause I'm yours." - little mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa knows Iwaizumi loves him, but he still has his doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scales of intensity: 
> 
> fluff: 5.5/10  
> angst: 7/10  
> lemon: 1/10
> 
> prompt (day 8): hurt/comfort
> 
> tw: light anxiety (please proceed with caution)

Oikawa wonders if his love was just becoming outdated. To be put on the back shelf, collecting dust and taken out when everything else was already used. 

He tugs on the sleeves of his sweater, taut and about to rip. Iwaizumi’s arm is still around his shoulder, tucked under his neck but suddenly it’s itchy and too hot, and too much. 

Oikawa leans forwards unconsciously, curling his feet closer to him on the couch. The t.v. is playing a national geographic rerun that Oikawa vaguely remembers. The audio’s jumbled. His eyes flicker over the grey walls of their apartment, their photos of Seijoh and each other, the homemade shelves Oikawa had insisted on trying to make months ago, the rickety bookcase. 

“Hey.” Iwaizumi pries his fingers off of each other, uncurling his fists. Oikawa forces himself to relax. “What’s wrong?” 

Iwaizumi’s watching him with concerned eyes, the arm around Oikawa’s shoulders adjusting so he can face Oikawa better. 

“Tooru?” 

Oikawa shoves his head into Iwaizumi’s upper chest. Iwaizumi‘s arms instantly fold around him, fingers in his hair and massaging his scalp.

Oikawa knows it. He knows Iwaizumi loves him.

They’ve been dating for ten months now. It had taken a hecking long time for them both to admit that they had more than platonic feelings for each other. Confessing was an entirely another story, spanning years. 

When Iwaizumi had first asked Oikawa to share an apartment with him during their third-year undergrad, Oikawa had agreed despite his suspiciously growing feelings for this best friend. So cliche, isn’t it? And then it had been awful, to see Iwaizumi walk around with wet hair from showering, have Iwaizumi make eggs while Oikawa made coffee for them both, going grocery shopping together and having movie nights. To do all these things that boarded on dating, boarded on being a couple, but instead drove Oikawa crazy because Iwaizumi didn’t see it like that.

But, shockingly, he had. And now they are dating. By miracles and gods above. But, by god, Oikawa’s so nervous. Iwaizumi’s the best thing that ever happened to him, and will always be the best thing, and he could not fuck this up.

“Tooru.” Iwaizumi’s voice carries meaning. “Talk to me.” 

How do you tell your boyfriend that you’re worried he doesn’t think you’re worth it? Oikawa’s only mortal, and he knows Iwaizumi is one in a million. He’s kind, and he’s good, really good, like I’ll-help-you-up-the-stairs-even-though-I’m-late, and will pick up milk bread for Oikawa after he knows Oikawa just had an awful chem test. He’s thoughtful and smart, kind and patient. 

Now, don’t get Oikawa wrong. They but heads almost every day and fight over whether to boil water and then start the pasta sauce, or vice versa, if it’s too cold for a bomber jacket, whether Oikawa’s being too territorial when he sucks hickeys onto Iwaizumi’s neck right before that one class with all the single girls. They fight for real too, about Iwaizumi’s neglect of his own mental health, and Oikawa’s neglect of his physical health, before beating each other up. 

And they’ve been best friends since the beginning of time—since they met only a month after being born. Through losing to Shiratorizawa, fighting the freak duo, picking colleges and tryouts for the college volleyball team four months ago.

Oikawa knows, logically, rationally, Iwaizumi isn’t just going to leave him. They aren’t even close to a breaking point. They’re comfortable. He’s comfortable, Iwaizumi’s comfortable.

Right?

“Just say whatever is going through your head,” Iwaizumi says softly. He knows Oikawa is having one of those anxiety episodes, and he’s coaching him and god, he’s sweet. Oikawa knows he himself is all bravado and bark but no bite, and he kind of has the limp balloon personality going for him—but Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi’s helping him and fuck, Iwaizumi—

Iwaizumi is just so _good._

He’s such a good person, he cuts past all the bullshit and just says how it is. Against Oikawa, he’s miles ahead in the morals and personality charts, he’s just so much higher up and Oikawa’s only Oikawa. He’s not worth it, realistically. Or not realistically. Actually, just—

“Hey, hey, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi takes Oikawa’s face in his hands. “Hey.” 

Oikawa realizes he’s shaking. He’s been talking out loud. 

“Oikawa.” 

“No, Iwa-chan, I know, I know it’s not like that and I am a pretty good person—” Oikawa’s words are muffled against Iwaizumi’s sweater. He knows it’s in his head, but that doesn’t make it any less true to him.

“Oikawa.” 

“I just need a minute, but I’m okay, okay, you don’t need to worry about me,” Oikawa rambles. “I think work and classes and sleep deprivation are getting to me, oh, Iwa-chan, I’m not insecure about our relationship or anything, okay, you need to understand.”

“Oikawa.” 

“I didn’t mean it that way, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—” 

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi pulls on his hair to get his attention. He meets Oikawa’s eyes. “Oikawa, I know.”

“But how do I know you know, and even if you know you might not believe it, and oh my god Oikawa shut up you’re making it worse, and—” Oikawa takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“Love.” 

The pet name startles him. 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi continues. “If you’re talking for your sake, continue. If you’re talking for my sake, shut up.”

Oikawa exhales. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, because it’s silent and it’s his fault and then Iwaizumi’s looking at him, and shakes his head. Firmly. 

“Don’t be sorry.” 

“Okay.” Oikawa breathes. There are kisses on the crown on his head, comforting him. Iwaizumi’s so good, and Oikawa’s never this good at looking after him, and he feels his anxiety pick back up. 

“Oikawa, hey.” Iwaizumi notices. Of course, he did. “Love, talk slower, alright?”

_Love._

“Yeah,” Oikawa says. ‘Okay.” 

One breath. Two. One foot in front of another, one word in front of another to explain.

“It’s a lot,” Oikawa settles on. 

“A lot?” Iwaizumi prompts, another kiss on his forehead. 

“Overwhelming. I don’t deserve you.” Oikawa sticks up a finger. “I know you’re going to say I do, and that I do deserve you, and if anything it’s the other way around but I’m just—” Oikawa makes a motion with his hands, caving in dramatically towards the floor. 

“Thoughts?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa nods. “Thoughts.” 

Iwaizumi motions for him to continue. 

“Well, you heard. You’re just a better person, and I’m pretty great myself, but, if you think about it anyone would want to date you, everyone would be lucky to, and I’m just one of those people who happen to be a little luckier, or a lot, and now we’re dating.” Does that make sense? Oikawa’s not sure. 

“There are so many people you could date, Hajime, _so_ many, and there’s only one for me. There’s only you.”

“I have to stop you there.”

“Okay.” Oikawa’s voice catches. 

“You’re stupid if you think that, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi’s voice is rough, insistent. “Doesn’t fucking matter how many other people are out there. There’s only you for me, too, okay?”

“Just, by compatibility—”

“Think about when we were little.” 

Oikawa waits. 

“We got along with all the other kids too, but we always ended up as partners regardless. It’s no different from now.” 

Iwaizumi continues, “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t get along and deserve each other. You and I have both given the universe piles of horse shit to deal with, and it comes back at us, but it’s not like we’re doing it alone.”

Oikawa knows, he knows, Iwaizumi’s right. 

“Yeah,” he says, even though he’s still tense. “Yeah, I know.” 

“I chose to hang out with your snobby face every day for about twenty years. And I’ll keep doing it.”

“My face is beautiful.” 

“Sure.” Iwaizumi gives him a look. “Also, who the fuck cares if you don’t deserve me? One, that’s nowhere near the truth, and two, this isn’t about deserving a person or not deserving them enough. I want to be with you, and as long as you want to be with me, then we’re fine.”

Iwaizumi relents, “Although I know your brain doesn’t listen to logic like that.”

“It doesn’t.” But Oikawa’s stopped shaking. 

Iwaizumi sighs. 

“Here.” He kisses Oikawa’s cheek. “Listen to that.” 

Oikawa laughs. 

Iwaizumi kisses him again, this time on the corner of his mouth.

Oikawa pulls on his shirt. “For real.” 

Iwaizumi kisses him square on the mouth.

Oikawa hums. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, stupid.” Iwaizumi flicks his forehead. Oikawa winces. “Hey, if you’re having thoughts like this, tell me.”

Oikawa nods. 

“Don’t keep watching—” Iwaizumi looks at the screen. “—baby seals or whatever. Tell me.” 

“I will.” 

“You will,” Iwaizumi says. “You will.”

“You make it sound like a threat.” 

“Maybe it is.” Iwaizumi ‘s eyes are taking in Oikawa, his lips and eyes, face and hands all at once. Oikawa can tell Iwaizumi’s on edge. 

“Okay,” Oikawa says. “I will.” 

Iwaizumi exhales. “My brain goes stupid too, sometimes. Freaks out for you. Just tell me.” 

Oikawa feels bad. 

“Don’t feel bad. It’s called empathy. A normal human reaction.” 

“Wow. Didn’t know you were normal, Iwa-chan.” 

“Oikawa.” 

“I know, I will. I’ll tell you.” 

Iwaizumi eyes him. “Get it into your stupid brain that I love you, and you deserve me, and we’re staying together until the end of time.” 

“How romantic.” 

“Oikawa.” 

“I love you.” Oikawa kisses him again, and it’s supposed to be properly but he misses by a centimetre or two and he feels Iwaizumi sigh and laugh at the same time against his chest.

Iwaizumi readjusts to kiss him.

“I love you too. Don’t forget it, okay?” 

Oikawa lets the words settle over him.

_I love you too. Don’t forget it, okay?_

“Okay,” Oikawa decides. “Okay, Iwa-chan.”

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> usually i reserve the pet name of "love" for bkak because it fits them so well but iwaoi—
> 
> ahem. 
> 
> f*ck you my child is completely fine.  
> your child read the character fandoms wikis for fun, maam.


End file.
